her, reached into a concealed pouch, and bent to drop a coin into her hand.
She snatched the gift before it could hit the ground and slipped the coin into a hidden place inside her robe. The movement was swifter than a falcon plunging to catch its prey.
He nodded, as if acknowledging her skill, then walked into the inn and looked around.
Gracia bent forward to better watch.
Raising his hand to greet an unseen acquaintance, he smiled broadly and slipped onto a bench just inside the doorway.
Without moving closer to the door, Gracia could not see who was across the table from him.
“I was hoping to find you,” the merchant exclaimed and waved at the serving wench. “Do you prefer wine or ale? I have found the inn’s wine to be quite acceptable.”
Gracia dared to inch nearer until she was almost at the entrance. Although she feared the innkeeper might send her away if she got too close, she hoped she could remain unnoticed long enough. This spot let her listen in secret with greater ease, but anyone leaving the inn might have to step around her.
She looked about. Few seemed interested in coming to the inn, or leaving it, but that would change. Huddling up to make herself even smaller, she knew she could not stay here long.
“I am not acquainted with you,” said the man hidden from view. His tone was petulant and also familiar.
“But I know your reputation, Master Larcher,” the fine merchant replied. “Wine, I think,” he said to the hovering serving woman. “Your best. I have spoken to the innkeeper and know what he keeps for those who enjoy a fine vintage.”
Larcher, the craftsman of pilgrimage badges? No wonder she thought she recognized the voice. Gracia did not like the man. Unconsciously, she rubbed her cheek where he had struck her once when she failed to step out of his path quickly enough.
“I still know you not.”
“Durant of Norwich, a merchant of wine, although I invest in other merchandise if I see value in doing so.” He let those words hang in the air for a moment. “I come to this town on occasion to worship at the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham, and have seen your finely crafted pilgrim badges. The nuns of Ryehill Priory are fortunate that they were given the right to the profits from the sales.”
“I do not offer a lesser price for direct purchases of the items. They are sold at Walsingham Priory for an honest one.”
The merchant indicated understanding. “Yet I think your work might also be sold in Norwich at a profit to you, as well as to me.”
There was a brief silence before Larcher responded. “Why should I be interested?”
Durant smiled. “Many vow to go on pilgrimage, a promise they never fulfill. Remember our beloved King Henry III who took the cross, swearing to go to Outremer and restore Jerusalem before his attention was directed to Gascony? He failed to fulfill his sacred vow, although he must have wished otherwise, but was left with the symbols of his oath. Surely we would not say that his promise was false because he was prevented from honoring it exactly as sworn. Was God not kind to him when He inspired his son to go in his stead? That must have brought peace to King Henry’s soul.”
Durant nodded as the woman put the jug of wine on the table. He pulled it to him, sniffed at the contents, then poured a modest serving for himself and more for the craftsman. “And so we are taught that oaths may be fulfilled in many ways. Should not the honest man have that symbol of intent to comfort him, as our former king did, when circumstances prevent him from doing precisely as he wished?”
Gracia watched Durant of Norwich close his eyes, as if in prayer, and wait. He knows his quarry, she thought, just as she knew the badge craftsman would reject nothing until he learned what was being offered and the profit he might expect. As she watched the stranger, she saw his lips curl up in a little smile as if he understood this, and she grew more eager to discover
She snatched the gift before it could hit the ground and slipped the coin into a hidden place inside her robe. The movement was swifter than a falcon plunging to catch its prey.
He nodded, as if acknowledging her skill, then walked into the inn and looked around.
Gracia bent forward to better watch.
Raising his hand to greet an unseen acquaintance, he smiled broadly and slipped onto a bench just inside the doorway.
Without moving closer to the door, Gracia could not see who was across the table from him.
“I was hoping to find you,” the merchant exclaimed and waved at the serving wench. “Do you prefer wine or ale? I have found the inn’s wine to be quite acceptable.”
Gracia dared to inch nearer until she was almost at the entrance. Although she feared the innkeeper might send her away if she got too close, she hoped she could remain unnoticed long enough. This spot let her listen in secret with greater ease, but anyone leaving the inn might have to step around her.
She looked about. Few seemed interested in coming to the inn, or leaving it, but that would change. Huddling up to make herself even smaller, she knew she could not stay here long.
“I am not acquainted with you,” said the man hidden from view. His tone was petulant and also familiar.
“But I know your reputation, Master Larcher,” the fine merchant replied. “Wine, I think,” he said to the hovering serving woman. “Your best. I have spoken to the innkeeper and know what he keeps for those who enjoy a fine vintage.”
Larcher, the craftsman of pilgrimage badges? No wonder she thought she recognized the voice. Gracia did not like the man. Unconsciously, she rubbed her cheek where he had struck her once when she failed to step out of his path quickly enough.
“I still know you not.”
“Durant of Norwich, a merchant of wine, although I invest in other merchandise if I see value in doing so.” He let those words hang in the air for a moment. “I come to this town on occasion to worship at the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham, and have seen your finely crafted pilgrim badges. The nuns of Ryehill Priory are fortunate that they were given the right to the profits from the sales.”
“I do not offer a lesser price for direct purchases of the items. They are sold at Walsingham Priory for an honest one.”
The merchant indicated understanding. “Yet I think your work might also be sold in Norwich at a profit to you, as well as to me.”
There was a brief silence before Larcher responded. “Why should I be interested?”
Durant smiled. “Many vow to go on pilgrimage, a promise they never fulfill. Remember our beloved King Henry III who took the cross, swearing to go to Outremer and restore Jerusalem before his attention was directed to Gascony? He failed to fulfill his sacred vow, although he must have wished otherwise, but was left with the symbols of his oath. Surely we would not say that his promise was false because he was prevented from honoring it exactly as sworn. Was God not kind to him when He inspired his son to go in his stead? That must have brought peace to King Henry’s soul.”
Durant nodded as the woman put the jug of wine on the table. He pulled it to him, sniffed at the contents, then poured a modest serving for himself and more for the craftsman. “And so we are taught that oaths may be fulfilled in many ways. Should not the honest man have that symbol of intent to comfort him, as our former king did, when circumstances prevent him from doing precisely as he wished?”
Gracia watched Durant of Norwich close his eyes, as if in prayer, and wait. He knows his quarry, she thought, just as she knew the badge craftsman would reject nothing until he learned what was being offered and the profit he might expect. As she watched the stranger, she saw his lips curl up in a little smile as if he understood this, and she grew more eager to discover
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